


Life Could Be A Dream

by CherryMoonlight



Category: NOS4A2 (TV 2019)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Being Lost, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Christmasland, Depression, Drama, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Drug Use, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Homelessness, How could I, I know, Illusions, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lust, Memories, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Music, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Past Child Abuse, Prophetic Dreams, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Romance, Running Away, Sad with a Happy Ending, Secrets, Singing, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Snow, Supernatural Elements, True Love, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love, Virginity, Wraith, but this has been burning for a while, strong creative, zachary quinto - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMoonlight/pseuds/CherryMoonlight
Summary: After growing up in a rough home and finally gathering the courage to leave it, a recurring dream of a Christmassy place that feels all too familiar is leading you in a direction you’re not sure you like.. How will you handle things when you realize what’s going on, just who you’re dealing with, and just who you are?
Relationships: Charlie Manx/Original Character(s), Charlie Manx/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	1. Long Overdue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> I have been obsessed with NOS4A2, and while I haven’t read the book yet (don’t judge me), the show is incredible. I haven’t written anything in a year or so, and I know I owe plenty of other stories, but this series came to me in a dream and I’m just so happy to be off hiatus and inspired again! That being said, this is a first person POV reader insert, and pretty much just not very canon but I’m having fun writing it and I hope you have fun reading it should you choose to! 🖤
> 
> PS — I’m crushing hard on Charlie Manx so definitely expect some of that at some point. (Lol, I know, how dare I considering the whole virgin thing- but really, how could I not?!)

Snowflakes fell like ashes from the sky as I walked forward down a snowy road I’d seen many times before. Despite the chill in the air, my skin didn’t react to the bitter coldness. I wasn’t bothered by the gentle wind or the glistening ice. It was as though the cold could touch me, but I couldn’t feel it. 

Deep green pine trees doused with pure white lined the road as far as the eye could see in every direction but up and down. My eyes searched for something— anything, that could tell me what was happening; why I kept being brought to this particular place. There had to be some kind of sign.. Some kind of message I was to receive. Everything had a reason in my mind, bad or good, and this dream was no exception. 

Much further down the road, there were glittering lights that danced in a blurred haze on the horizon. But no matter how far or how long I walked, they never grew closer. 

“{Y/N}!” I heard what sounded like a small child’s excited whisper, as though they were taunting me, rather than calling out to me. 

_ This is new _ ..

I turned around immediately, looking for the source of the disembodied voice as a slight pang of panic rose in my chest. Though I wasn’t sure what was happening, the fear began to manifest anyway, giving me some kind of indication that this might become a nightmare.

A faint giggle echoed from the other direction, and I turned to face it, too. With a shake of my head and a moment to steady my breathing, I reminded myself that I was in control.. 

_ Or was I?  _

I picked up the pace to a brisk walk, not wanting to will myself awake just yet. The lights ahead of me stayed exactly where they were, but the sweet scent of peppermint mixing with pine began to fill my nostrils. It was pleasant, almost addicting right from the first whiff. 

Still, I lowered my eyes to the ground, almost afraid of what I might see if I looked around so carelessly. 

Another reverberated giggle filled the air, but this time it was accompanied by my name again. When I looked up from the white ground beneath my feet, I saw a small figure dash across the road. Just beyond that, the lights in the distance began to grow clearer before me.

“I can see..” I mumbled under my breath a bit too happily as I began to run, not wanting to miss the opportunity to finally find out what was beyond the long road. 

My hair whipped around my face, and I knew if I could feel the air around me, it would’ve stung my skin. My breath formed small white clouds around my mouth as I continued, and just when I thought I could make out what lay in front of me, I was grabbed by small hands from behind, the excruciating pain of a sharp bite digging into the back of my shoulder, until— 

I jolted awake, sitting upright as my {E/C} eyes pried themselves open to absorb where I actually was. Everything felt foggy, and as I clutched the shirt I wore with a trembling hand, I tried my best to ground myself.

A record I had on a turntable spun in what seemed like endless circles at the end of the track list and everything was quiet, save for the static. Looking out towards the frosty window, the ice climbing around the edges like spiderwebs offered me a sense of comfort. The world was cold, but inside, everything was warm and cozy. I was safe, and this was only a dream I’d been having for years— even if a few things had suddenly changed. 

I stood up, working on slowing my breathing as I lifted the needle from the record and set it in its place, turning the player off. My mind roamed back to the dream I’d just had. It was strange that out of all the time it plagued my sleep, something had finally been different. It felt stranger than usual as I mulled over the way I heard children and saw the lights come a bit more into focus this time. There was something about it that I couldn’t quite place. It reminded me of the holidays— my favorite time of year despite the way I grew up. Christmas was my favorite holiday, always allowing me to get lost in everyone else’s joy and excitement. Watching heartwarming films and seeing the way the community came together to decorate their homes.. It reminded me of what being a child should’ve felt like, even though there was never any indication that Christmas even existed in my house. For as long as I could remember, not a tree, nor a present ever graced my December’s. 

As I moved to the vanity to fix my appearance, I came to the conclusion that I was just excited for Christmas’s arrival, and my dream was a reflection of that. This year, I wanted to buy a small tree for my room and decorate it the way I wanted. I was an adult now, and no one could tell me any different. 

“{Y/N}!” I heard my mother scream from downstairs, eliciting an automatic eye roll from me. “Come down here, now!”

With a huff, I did as I was told, despite being eighteen, I still lived under her roof and had to abide by her insane rules. 

My mother and I never quite got along. As a child, she consoled herself with prescription pills and alcohol, and I never really had a father. My older brother split with him the moment he walked out of the door when I was seven, which is when my only recollection of Christmas’s ended, leaving them like a far too distant memory to me. 

My dad never bothered to take me with him, or even call me afterwards. Neither did my brother. I didn’t know what I did wrong, but as time moved on, I realized they’d simply abandoned me with her. I supposed that they assumed I’d end up the same way. Not able to blame them, I never bothered to reach out, either. I had my dad’s number, I stole it from a sticky note my mom had gotten from one of their mutual friends. But if they wanted to contact me, they would. Sometimes, when my mom had locked me in the closet for “being too happy,” or hit me for answering a question in a way she didn’t like, I really wished they would’ve. 

Since then, I’ve had to learn to take care of myself. When she was passed out on the floor for what felt like days on end, I was in charge of things like food and getting myself to school. The microwave was my best friend early on, and unlike most other kids, I was glad I had school to escape to. 

I’d never quite forgiven her for ruining my childhood. Sometimes, I’d see the other kids getting picked up by their parents; the care in their eyes, the love in their hearts. It was all very comforting to watch. I cried myself to sleep countless nights wondering why I couldn’t have parents who cared for me the same way.

When my mother was awake, it was constant belittling and berating. Being so young, I had no idea I could be such a mistake and a screw up so soon, if at all. But there was dear old mom, ready to remind me at a moment's notice. Something as simple as dropping a pencil on the floor earned me an ear full of being a klutz and completely worthless to the world. If I even looked at her in a way she didn’t like, I felt her wrath. 

But as time went on, she gradually got worse. She built up more of a tolerance to whatever she was taking, making her perfectly functional to the rest of society, but twice as abusive to me. No matter how old I got, I remained the punching bag. I’d thought she took out the anger of losing my father and brother on me, but later I couldn’t help but think it felt like she just  _ liked _ hurting me. 

Before I exited my room, I looked at a small cedar chest with a heart shaped lock that sat atop my dresser. It was my saving grace these days, the only thing that kept me sane. It held money I’d been putting away to get my own place, and a few other things that were important to me, like the note with my dad’s number and a small locket I had been gifted as a child. 

_ Soon _ .  _ Soon I’d never have to hear her voice or see her face again _ . 

My feet shuffled to the bottom of the stairs and I inhaled and counted to four, then exhaled and counted to four; a small tactic that I used to deal with her. Turning the corner into the kitchen, I saw her sitting at the wooden table, glass of whatever the day's poison was in hand, waiting for me with a crisp white sheet of paper in front of her. 

“What is this?” she questioned, the annoyance thick in her voice already. 

I peeked over her shoulder. It was paperwork from a therapy session a friend let me take from her almost a year ago. I hadn’t wanted to do it, but she insisted once I explained just a portion of my life to her. 

“You went through my things?” Was all I could manage. 

I was bubbling with anger, but trying my best not to fly off the handle. 

_ She wasn’t worth it _ , I reminded myself. 

“You went to  _ therapy _ ? After all I’ve done for you, you felt like you needed…  _ Help _ ?” 

She spat the word “help” out as though it were venom on the tongue. I was still processing the fact that she felt as though she’d raised me well, or really even at all. How dare she think she was there for me at all.

“Well? Answer me, {Y/N}!” 

Lost for words, I stammered a bit, unsure of what to say. The last thing I felt like doing was fighting with her, and in that moment, I had no idea where to begin to tell her off. 

“I— Just.. There’s—“

“I know you’ve always been a little slow,” she snorted. “But you can’t even answer a question these days..”

“That’s it! I’m sick of you! How dare you—” I snapped, but before I even had time to finish another thought, she was up from the chair and her hand had roughly connected with my cheek.

Stunned from the stinging sensation, I stared at her blankly. Though it used to be a daily occurrence, it had been a long time since she’d hit me, and the act only dredged up memories that I thought I’d gotten over. I shook my head, and without another word, I went upstairs, slipped into my favorite combat boots, grabbed a jacket and my bag and placed my cedar chest in it before making my way to the front door in a rushed cloud of hurt and anger. 

“If you walk out of this house, you’re not coming back! I’ll leave your shit on the curb and I’ll never see your ungrateful ass again!” she called out, her voice hoarse with crazed, manic emotion. 

“I wouldn’t come back if this were the last place on earth,” was all I said, opening the door to leave.

I heard the rattling of a pill bottle being frantically emptied and breathed a quiet laugh of disbelief before slamming the door shut. There was no care to be had in my mind or heart anymore. Maybe it was wrong, but I had taken too much from that woman. I was done sticking around and pretending to care in the hopes that she’d change one day. 

Looking out ahead of me for a moment, I slid into my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder. Closing the door with the intention of never looking back should’ve been the best day of my life. Instead, I felt anxious beyond belief. 

Leaving with no plan as to where I was going wasn’t how I wanted to end things. I’d managed to stick around for eighteen years, and almost felt silly for letting this small encounter become the straw that broke the camel's back. 

At the same time, eighteen years is a long time to go on the way I did. It was overdue. 

As I walked into the snow, I realized how alone I truly was. No parents, no siblings. No family. I couldn’t burden my friends to deal with the mess my life had become. I lived in what could be considered the middle of nowhere. It was freezing and I had nowhere to go. I raised myself for so long, I didn’t know if I was actually expecting to be able to take care of myself in a situation like this or not, should it happen. But as I reached the end of my driveway and looked down the road, I was reminded of my recurring dream. It looked the same— the trees and the glistening snow atop them. The only thing missing was the dazzling lights at the end of the stretch. How I never put it together that this scenery was near identical before, I wasn’t sure. 

It was then that I wondered if this is what my dream had been trying to tell me all along.. 

That I’d be walking a cold, lonely road to nowhere. 


	2. What's That Playin' on the Radio?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is pouring from my veins, I deeply appreciate the kudos and I'm happy its being enjoyed so far!  
> The chapter is titled after the song... Super cheesy but ugh, vintage vibes always.  
> <3

I huddled into myself, the cold definitely getting to me, unlike the way the weather affected — or didn’t affect — me in my dream. The fresh snow crunched beneath my feet as I kept on, and I began to feel stupid for acting so rashly. At the same time, I knew it was for the better. There was no better time than the present they said, and if I stayed at that godforsaken place after that, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take myself seriously ever again. It was a fine line of empowered and guilty that I walked, but I knew I’d have to walk it nonetheless with the decision I made. 

A couple of hours or so went by of wandering aimlessly up the road. I hadn’t realized how far apart things were in my little town without a car to take you there. It wasn’t snowing, but the sky looked as though it might open up with a flurry at any second. I was close to grabbing my phone and breaking down, apologizing to the woman who should’ve been apologizing to me instead when I caught sight of a large sign just beyond me. 

“Carmody’s Car Carma,” I said to myself, cocking my head to one side. 

I hadn’t noticed Carmody’s before, but as I came across it, I hoped they had a vending machine. My stomach growled; I hadn’t eaten all day, and with my nerves calming from the argument I had with my mother coupled with all the walking I’d done, I needed a snack and something to drink. 

When I approached the sign, I turned down the tire-worn pathway right behind it, hoping that whoever owned the place would be kind enough to let me make use of whatever they had to offer. 

The closer I got to what looked like a mechanics haven, a plethora of noises erupted from the building. The sound of a shrill kind of drill spinning relentlessly into a hunk of metal and a motorcycle being almost revved up and then cut over and over meshed together over a song on a static-filled radio I hadn’t heard before. I slowly made my way to the open garage door, finding it slightly amusing that they’d leave it open despite the freezing temperature. I guessed it was safer that way with the scents that wafted through the air. 

A girl caught sight of me first, immediately setting down a spray can of red paint she had in her hand and picking up a towel, wiping both hands on it with a friendly grin as she walked up to me. She looked a little rough around the edges, her short brunette locks styled with bangs curled haphazardly around her face as though she’d been at work for a while, lost in the task at hand. 

“Hey! You need some work done?” she asked. 

“Oh.. No, I’m— I just need a vending machine or something. I’ve been.. on a walk, and I’m starved.” The girl raised a brow, eyeing me for a moment. I’m sure I looked suspicious to some degree, but not enough for the way she carried herself then. She backed up, her stance becoming slightly defensive. 

“Who sent you?”

Her voice was low and quiet, as though she was expecting my reasoning to be something grave. 

_Gee, I must really look insane_.

“Nobody..” I began, confused about what she was thinking. “I can go, if you want,” I said then, turning to leave. 

“Vic, who’s there?” I heard a male voice inquire next.

Almost immediately the girl's demeanor changed, as though she came to some kind of realization. 

“Wait up,” she said to me, her voice softening. “We have a vending machine.. It doesn’t take money anymore, but I can just open it for you.”

She turned to the voice then as the man revealed himself in the garage’s entryway, holding a drill in one hand and wiping his forehead with a towel with the other. He also looked as though he’d been caught up in his work, his shirt slightly dirtied with oil and sweat on his brow. 

“She just needs a vending machine,” Vic said, waving her hand for me to follow her into the shop. 

He nodded his head and looked over at me with a warm grin.

“Welcome to Carmody’s Car Carma! We do the best work _and_ have some of the best snacks in town. I’m Sir Lou Carmody, and the lady is Miss Victoria McQueen.”

He’d put on a British accent for the greeting before getting back to his work and I smiled— probably the first genuine smile I’d given in weeks. 

“I’ll believe that when I taste it!” I called out jokingly as he headed back to his project. “But I’m {Y/N}, it’s nice to meet you both.”

“Call me Vic,” the girl responded then.

My hand was almost numb with the cold as I reached into my bag and grabbed my wallet. When I stepped behind Vic, she moved aside, slapping the side of the vending machine as though she were a salesman trying to push a car. The door popped right open, and she lifted her hand to stop me from offering her money. 

“Your money’s no good here. No one’s used this thing in years, just don’t come complaining if you get sick,” she smiled.

Reluctantly, I slipped my wallet back into my purse and reached out for a bag of chips. Stale or not, chips never seemed to go completely bad, I thought. 

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be okay. My mother’s made worse.” 

“Bad cook?”

“Bad everything,” I rolled my eyes. 

“I get that. Coffee?” She asked then, turning around to a small counter and holding up a pot of what smelled like fresh coffee. The scent was hardly detectable through the scent of oil and fresh paint, but it was enough to get me to say yes. Besides, I’d need the pick-me-up if I was going to keep walking. 

When she poured me a cup, I held it in my hands for a moment, letting it warm my skin. I looked around the space. It seemed they were doing well, cars and their parts scattered about everywhere. A red dirt bike in the corner looked like what she must’ve been painting before I arrived. It was then that my eyes landed on a small handwritten “help wanted” sign on a pole just above a telephone that looked like its wires had been cut. 

I stayed quiet for a moment, wondering why they had a phone that wasn’t working; or better yet— was stopped from working. It was off-putting, but I supposed I had no room to judge, and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosy, no matter how eerie something seemed. 

“You’re looking for help?” I asked curiously, quickly ignoring the phone altogether. 

The place was too close for comfort to my mother's house, but now that I was on my own, I was going to need some kind of income. They seemed like nice people, and I knew my way around a car thanks to a short lived boyfriend who helped his dad with his at-home projects a couple years back. 

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s been just the two of us here for a while. My son’s starting to miss me,” she breathed a laugh, a nervous energy almost permeating from her. 

“Well, I’m kind of looking for a job right now.. No pressure,” I chirped. 

She looked me over, leaning back against the counter with her own paper cup of coffee. 

“You know cars? Bikes? That kinda thing? Mostly, we need someone on the phone, too.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” I said, finally bringing my cup to my lips and sipping on the hot beverage, not bringing up the destroyed phone on the pole. “And I’ve had plenty of experience on the phone. I had to do everything for my mother, from making appointments to taxes.” 

I exhaled with a quiet hum, grateful for the warm drink. It warmed me up almost immediately, like fire on ice, and I couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. My day had been rough, but there was still hope. Either that, or the coffee was way too good. 

After speaking to her for a while about my knowledge of mechanics, she left to speak to Lou privately. I kept my fingers crossed around my cup anxiously, hoping that maybe my day would turn around. I didn’t have a place to stay, but a job was half the battle. I could weather a few nights in the cold if it meant saving for an apartment. Or at least a long-stay motel room. 

Spending the money I tucked away in the cedar chest on a room was tempting, but that was saved for a reason. I’d fallen on hard times, but unless they got harder, like Lou not agreeing to my employment, I could still save for the bigger picture. There _was_ still hope for me. Silently, I prayed to whatever might be watching over me as I heard them murmuring to each other across the shop.

Waiting by the vending machine, I let myself relax just a bit and enjoy being out of the direct cold. The song on the radio was catchy, but had a solemn tone to it that reminded me of my life in every aspect. I listened to it, getting lost in the melody for a moment before hearing Vic walk up to me, jarring me out of my small trance. 

“Welp, you’re in luck— welcome to the team!” She said, holding her hand out to me to shake it. 

I gasped, jumping a bit in place as I took her hand in return, shaking it with an excitement I didn’t know I could still muster after everything earlier. 

“Oh, thank you. You don’t know how much I need this right now. When do I start?”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning, we open at nine, sharp. I’ll be around to help you out, show you the ropes— but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quick. Lou’s always here if you need anything after, though.” 

The relief I felt was unbelievable. All I had to do was figure out where to stay. I guessed I could use some of the money in my wallet for a room somewhere— The question was where. By foot, everything was so far away, and my middle-of-nowhere town wouldn’t know what a taxi or bus was from a hole in the ground. 

But at the same time, I was too glad to care for the moment, sipping from my cup and exhaling quietly. Half the battle was won. Now I needed to go in and win the war with a place to stay, and I’d be on my way to some kind of normalcy, whatever that might have felt like. 

Vic led me over to the front of the shop then, and I opened my bag of chips, remembering how hungry I actually was as I lightly popped one into my mouth. The song playing into the air grew louder as we approached the radio. I smiled and gestured towards the little electronic device. 

“I’ve never heard the song on the radio before— what’s it called?” I asked Vic curiously, swaying my head to the melody gently. 

She stopped walking, turning around to face me with a furrowed brow, concern written all over her features as she spoke. 

“The radio isn’t on…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, this is the slowest I've ever introduced a main character, but I'm a sucker for suspense and a slow burn in all aspects! He'll arrive soon..... <3 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3


	3. The Damaged Find Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> In the tags I added implied suicide. That happens for a moment in this chapter, but nothing graphic, just a lot of feelings from the readers end for a moment. 
> 
> While the -x-x-x-’s here are used to imply time passing, I also noticed they mark where the warning begins and only lasts until about half way between them so that works for a marker if you need it!
> 
> I just wanted to mention that for anyone who may need it mentioned. 
> 
> <3

Black spots clouded my vision in large patches, smatterings of light flecks dancing around within them. My ears were ringing, a low, consistent hum laced with the beating of my heart as my legs trudged forward. There was no indication of where I was, until the dark clouds that kept me from seeing began to dissipate slowly. I inhaled, trying my best to figure out where I was. As I did so, the familiar scent of peppermint and pine filled my nostrils. 

_Ah._

_The dream._

My vision slowly twisted from pitch black to blurry, snowy white as I gained more control of myself and my legs, becoming clearer-headed by the second. The ringing in my ears was replaced with a hazy sounding song in the distance, which I quickly recognized to be the phantom song I’d heard on the radio at Carmody’s, but without the static that found its way through every note. 

I was reminded of how Vic asked if I had always heard music that no one else did. It made me laugh. What was she playing at? At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly alarmed. I chalked it up to the long day. Maybe it was just in my head. She didn’t push the subject any further when I told her no.

My eyelids fluttered, taking in the long road lined with tees ahead of me; my steps crunched in the snow. The lights in the distance were still just so closely out of reach. 

I surely thought I’d never experience the dream again after watching it’s contents unfold in front of me not too long ago. It had only been a week since I’d left home, but I was on a new path in life now. If my dream wasn’t a sign for such a change, what could it have been a sign for?

The cold still couldn’t touch me, but light snowflakes fell like rose petals against my skin this time. The feeling was foreign all the same. One didn’t feel snowflakes against their flesh, but these were soft enough that I welcomed it all the same. 

No matter how far I walked in any direction, I couldn’t find the source of the song that seemed to float through the air like a butterfly on a summer breeze, intertwining with each note of the ghostly melody. This time, the dream felt as though it were all a distant memory. I supposed I’d dreamt of this wintery place so many times, it was becoming all too familiar, even though the dream itself had begun to change between the last time I’d had it now after years of remaining the same.

Trying to listen closely this time, I heard no sounds of laughter or life like I did last time, and while the song held a hint of catchiness when I’d heard it in the shop, this particular setting ignited a strange pang of melancholy deep within my heart. Sadness reared its head as I began to long for something I wasn’t sure I’d ever had. Not able to put my finger on what that something was, I tried my best to push the feeling away.

But to no avail.

After a moment, I heard my breathing tremble, felt it rattling in my chest. 

My fingers found their way to my cheeks, dabbing them lightly in disbelief before I looked down to study the wetness that rubbed off on them, looking almost iridescent in the moonlight and lights that danced up ahead. Despite my upbringing, I hadn’t cried in ages. Crying showed weakness in my mother’s eyes, and I was going to be damned if I let her have the satisfaction of seeing me cry. 

I quickly wiped my tears on my clothes, not wanting to think something like a silly, lyricless song would make me cry after all this time. Instead of picking up the pace like I had before, I made my way down the road slowly, staying in the tune with my surroundings— searching for the meaning in anything I could find. When I squinted at the lights before me, I could make out what looked like a long track, lined in the colorful lights. It reminded me of a roller coaster, one I’d seen before.

“{Y/N},” I heard a man's deep velvety voice say, just above a whisper in my ear. 

By instinct, I turned to face it, accidentally opening my eyes too widely. 

“Oh, Vic,” I sighed sleepily, realizing my dream had disappeared in a flash as my groggy voice squeaked. “I was dreaming, you scared me. You sounded like a man.” 

Rubbing my eyes, I sat up from the couch they’d graciously lent me until I could find a place to stay, stretching my arms. It was a low moment for me, having to explain that I was essentially homeless when Vic asked if I lived close to the shop, but the kindness of strangers proved to exist when she trusted me so easily. All it seemed to take was her relating to me with her own trouble with her parents in the past. Though it was brief, it somehow brought us closer together almost immediately. 

The damaged really did find each other. 

“Gee, thanks,” she smirked. 

She wore a black motorcycle jacket and bootcut jeans, her unkempt hair looking as though it’d been concealed under a helmet. Over the past week, I’d noticed she’d taken off on her dirt bike a lot, more than what seemed usual for someone who claimed to want to be home with her son all the time. Though it was hardly my business, I wondered where she went for hours on end.

“It’s already eleven, you’re gonna be late if you don’t get ready,” she urged, a gentle reminder of the day's purpose for me. 

I simply nodded and willed myself to my feet, remembering what was ahead of me. 

The day after I left the house, I received a call that my mother had overdosed on a cocktail of pills and alcohol. The news should’ve come as a shock; should’ve felt as though I’d got punched in the stomach or plunged into ice water. Instead, I felt as though I knew it was going to happen that way. I thanked the caller for the notification and hung up my cell. It didn’t matter that I was eighteen. She’d gotten her last laugh, and I was truly alone in the world.

Truly an orphan.   
  


**-x-x-x-  
  
**

With a sigh, I smoothed down the black dress Vic had taken me buy for the grim affair a few days earlier, looking around the confines of my now old house. It was going to be taken by the state, and I didn’t have the resources to fight it. If I was honest, I didn’t really want to. It was better off left in the dirt, a memory to be covered up and forgotten about like a child’s toy.

So much had changed in a week. My life was turned upside down in a matter of seconds, and things only continued to change. Seeing the chair my mother often sat in empty struck an odd nerve that I didn’t think it would. I walked around the table, running my fingers along the wooden top before sitting in the chair myself. 

It was where they found her. Slumped over, alone.

With my hands on the arm rails, I braced myself, as though the chair might combust, or really, as though I might fall to pieces if I didn’t hold myself there.

Everyone spoke well of her at the funeral. I wasn’t even aware she knew so many people who’d want to be there, but I guessed she’d put on a front that she was a great person everywhere else but at home. Still, the side of me who desperately wanted her to change, who screamed inside as they lowered the casket six feet underground, was grateful they showed up for her. 

I didn’t speak about her. How could I after the way we’d parted? I stayed silent, letting everyone think I just couldn’t muster the emotional stability to do so. Maybe that didn’t make me any better than her at some points.

I stared blankly at the table, wondering what was going through her mind at the time, since my whole life I’d never seen her care enough about anything or anyone else. 

My father and my brother were at the funeral, which might’ve shocked me if I weren’t feeling so confusedly numb. After more than ten years, they looked so different than I remembered, yet exactly the same. Though my emotions were scattered among a cruel scale of uncaring and caring too much, when I saw them walk over, I did want to throttle them both; shake them to their cores and ask them what they thought they were doing. I wasn’t even sure they recognized me, though. Not until they approached me. 

Even after just a very brief chat, I realized it wasn’t that they were better people than my mother for leaving. They hadn’t escaped her clutches or wanted to do better for themselves. They were exactly the same as her, maybe even worse, which was a shame to see in my brother as well. Neither of them were worth remembering, and while my heart shattered at the notion, my head felt clearer being able to find closure and let go of what could be or could’ve been. My cedar chest would definitely become emptier when I got back to Vic’s and burned my father's phone number into nothingness.

I really had nowhere else to turn now, and I was more than grateful for Vic and Lou. 

My eyes drifted around the kitchen, and I remembered the way my parents fought with each other. Random objects flying across the room, the smell of liquor seeping from their pores. I always stayed huddled up at the top of the stairs, listening to their arguments about things that never really seemed very important to me. It forced me to be more mature at such a young age, minding my behavior and walking on eggshells. I remembered how one night, their arguing had finally worn on me. I walked out of my front door in noting but pajamas and the slippers on my feet, only a small child, in the middle of a snow storm. That was the night before my father disappeared from my life. After that, the rest was a blur. 

Not wanting to wallow in self-pity any longer, I shook the thought from my head and stood up from the table. Taking one last trek up the creaky stairs that were almost like a soundtrack to my childhood, I made my way to my room to grab some of my things and shove them into a duffle bag. The rest could burn to the ground for all I cared. 

As I took one last look and walked out of the front door, I was tempted to light the match myself. 

“Ready to go?” Vic asked.

She had been waiting for me outside. It was her idea to come back to my place to get my things and “say goodbye” properly. She was sweet, but I couldn’t even begin to explain to her that it wasn’t worth it to me anymore. Still, I took the opportunity it offered me. I needed clothes and there were a few things I hadn’t meant to part with when I’d left in the first place.

“Yeah, I think so..” I began, walking down more rickety steps from my front porch. “But, hey.. I don’t want to go back to the house just yet. Can you take me to work? I need to do something other than sit and think today.”

“Course,” she agreed, no questions asked. 

I liked that about her and Lou. They seemed to understand, no matter what.   
  


**-x-x-x-  
  
**

The rest of the day went by a hell of a lot quicker than I would’ve liked. Tidying up around the shop, I picked up a broom and absentmindedly pushed it around, focusing on the way the bristles brushed against the cement as I searched for anything and everything to do instead of having time to think. But when I looked down, I noticed a bracelet I never took off was missing from my wrist. An audible gasp escaped me, followed by an exasperated curse. 

“What’s the matter?” Vic asked, walking towards me with Wayne who was close on her heels. 

“I lost my bracelet.. It was the only thing my mom had ever given me that wasn’t attached to some kind of condition,” I frowned, wringing one hand around my wrist lightly as I held onto the broom with the other.

“I’m sure it’ll turn up, just keep looking,” was all she said before she passed right by me and grabbed her helmet. 

I nodded, sighing as I decided it might not have been worth keeping, anyway. Getting sentimental over my mother wasn’t like me, especially when I’d never really paid much attention to the bracelet once I put it on years ago, but I guessed it was a normal reaction in the given situation. 

“Where are you going?” I heard Wayne ask her as they headed back out front.

“Stay here with dad and {Y/N}, okay, Bats?” She responded. 

And with that, I heard the roar of the dirt bike’s engine kick up and fade off into the distance. 

At about ten minutes to closing time, Vic walked over to me with pride in her step and a large grin on her lips. She looked up to something, and I wasn’t sure what to think. Before I could ask what happened, she held her hand out and dangled a small gold chain with a crescent moon charm in the air in front of me.

“My bracelet!” I cried, more excited than I’d expected to be over it’s return. “Where’d you find it?” 

“It was on the ground,” she shrugged, a nervous energy seemed to permeate from her, and I was reminded of the first day we met. 

When I looked up to thank her, I noticed her eye was bloodshot, a thin trail of deep red blood dripping from the outer corner of it. Concern was an understatement as I dropped the broom and rushed over to her. 

“Vic, are you okay? Your eye…” 

“Oh what? This? I’m fine, it’s just allergies. I rode through the woods this time, I usually don’t,” she explained. 

“But it’s bleeding,” I pushed. “Let me get you a towel or something to clean it,” I said, turning around and looking for a clean towel.

“You should stop riding your bike through the woods so much….” Lou walked over, standing next to the pole with the phone on it.

When I found a suitable towel, I handed it to her, watching as Lou took the “Help Wanted” sign down and crumpled it in his hands, something clearly bothering him as he eyed her with an intense gaze. Not wanting to get in the middle of whatever spat they may have been having, I picked up the broom again, averting my gaze back to the floor as he took her aside and spoke to her privately.

A few moments passed before I heard the phone ring. Not thinking anything of it, I walked over to it slowly. The shop was almost closed and whatever was so important could wait, but I wanted to make a good impression on Lou and Vic. When my eyes fell on the phone, I suddenly remembered the cords had been cut. My expression twisted into pure confusion as I studied the phone. 

_How is it ringing?_

I reached out towards it even slower than I’d approached it and put the receiver to my ear as though it might burn me. Noticing Vic storming towards me with a fire in her eyes that I’d never seen before, I swallowed hard. She stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed I had the phone. It almost looked as though she had stopped breathing as she stared me down, waiting for whatever she was expecting to happen. 

“ _Hello_...?” I spoke into the phone, trying to remain calm about what I thought was only the impossible phone call, until her features then morphed from confused to fearful.

“Where’s Wayne?” Vic questioned into the open air to no one in particular with clear panic lacing her voice, stomping closer to me in her boots as though I’d done something wrong. 

At the same time, I heard the voice of a little girl at the other end of the phone, her tone full of snark and sass before she hung up the phone with a loud slam. 

“You’re not Vic McQueen.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for hanging in there with me through my first three Charlie-less chapters! Our favorite vamp is finally making an appearance next time. ;D <3


	4. Christmasland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He’s hereeeeeeeeeeeeee! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and what’s to come! Thank you for being so supportive of my little fic <3

“Did they ask for me?” Vic’s voice was low and rough as I put the phone back in its place.

If looks could kill, I might’ve died right there in my shoes. Still, I nodded reluctantly. Before I had time to speak again, she spun around on her heel and stormed out, grabbing her helmet once more. 

“Wayne?” She called out. 

Silence. 

“Wayne!” She shouted then, fear gripping the tone of her voice in a way that almost frightened  _ me _ . 

I watched as Lou followed her out, looking exasperated the moment she’d gotten on her bike in a huff. He threw his hands up in the air and she was gone.

Approaching him carefully, I kept a polite enough distance. Having no idea as to what was going on, I tried not to make anything worse. Was a random phone call really that menacing? Pushing away the fact that the cord was still dangling from the pole, usually rendering any other phone useless, was proving to be harder than I expected.

“Where’s she going?” I asked gently. 

He took a moment to respond, his gaze seemingly stuck down the road as he stared after her, but Victoria wasn’t anywhere in sight anymore. His face was clearly pained when he finally turned to face me.

“She just.. went to go look for Wayne,” he sighed, padding to the shop again and grabbing his keys off of a caddy on the wall. “I’ll be back.” 

And with that, he was gone, too. I guessed they’d trusted me enough to leave me alone with the shop, even if it was supposed to be closed a few moments ago. Sitting alone, it didn’t take long before I felt absolutely gutted that Wayne was missing and I hadn’t even noticed that he wandered off. A strong urge to help them in their search for him plagued me. They’d been so kind and welcoming to me, and I owed it to them. 

The garage door closed with a bang when I locked it. I had no car or really any means of transportation, but I noticed keys to a truck that had been dangling on the wall as well. While I had no idea who they belonged to, I didn’t care. Before I locked the shop up, I’d swiped them from their spot. The air was crisp as I ran over to the vehicle, helping myself and hoping the owner would never figure out I used it. 

Not having a car had been the bane of my existence as a teenager. I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. The only reason I was even able to get my license was because my mother wanted me to run errands for her. The engine roared to a start and the radio kicked on, the haunting song from the shop and my dream suddenly playing through it. This struck a slight pang of uneasiness within me. The song sounded just as sorrowful as it had in my dream. With a hard swallow, I reached for the knob and pushed the power button carelessly as I began to drive off the lot. 

The song still played. 

I pushed again, then again and again. 

The radio was off, but the song still played. I could’ve killed the engine in the middle of the road, just to be sure, but I decided against it.

“Must be broken..” I tried to convince myself aloud instead, as though it might go away if it heard me.

Something was clearly wrong with me, I thought. 

_ Hearing songs that don’t exist when no one else could hear them _ ..  _ Lovely. I’d always heard trauma did strange things to the brain. Maybe it was something like th— _

It was then that something large behind the treeline beside me caught my eye. I wasn’t too far from Carmody’s yet, making me even more compelled to examine it. 

From what I could see it was large and wooden and resembled something of a tunnel or a bridge. There was no peeling my thoughts from the sight, forcing me to keep glancing over at it. I _couldn’t_ _not_ investigate what I was seeing, and a part of me wondered if it was truly there thanks to the incidents with the ghostly song I kept having.

But I couldn’t resist. I pulled over immediately and stared at it from the car, blinking a few times just to be sure. 

_ It was definitely there.. _

Maybe I’d just overlooked it like I had overlooked Carmody’s all of this time. 

Shrugging into the jacket I wore, I hopped out of the truck and closed the door before standing still for a moment-- just listening.

_ Nope. No song _ . 

But it had already gotten stuck in my head.

Not wanting to work on that crisis before figuring out what was hiding behind the trees, I decided there was no harm in humming it to myself. The sensation of mystery ran thick while I made my way down into the wooded area, pushing my way through dry branches and prickly pine needles. The air grew even chillier and the gray sky turned just a bit darker the further I went, making me wonder if going into the woods was a good idea at all. But I owed it to Vic and Lou to help them look for their son, who had been nothing but sweet to me since I’d met him. 

“Wayne…!” I called, though not as loudly as I probably should have as I approached the large structure. 

My brow knit together. That tunnel was not there before, of that I was certain. It seemed to lead to nowhere, which was intriguing and eerie at the same time. The lyricless song in my head seemed to swell with passion, making me sing along to the notes that hung in the air just like it had in my dream. 

_ My dream _ . 

Maybe the tunnel had something to do with the dream I had, I thought, walking towards the entrance. My feet continued to carry me forward, still not close enough to see inside. It almost seemed as though no matter how far I walked, I could never get close enough to even begin to close the distance. Snow began to fall from the sky then, something the weather forecast hadn’t called for at all in the week, and as I continued on, the colorless flurry grew heavier and heavier— the melody in my head and on my lips almost taking the place of any other noise I might’ve heard. 

“Wayne?” I cried out in between singing, huddling into myself from what was turning into bitter coldness. 

I ducked as a few black bats that stood out against the vastness of white flew out from the slowly disappearing structure and towards me. The snow had picked up so much I wasn’t sure I would even be able to get close enough to it to take cover. The sudden whiteout was disorienting, not only because of the blankets of snow clouding my vision, but because it just didn’t feel possible to happen all at once. It came out of thin air, making me feel as though I were detached from reality.

My better judgement told me I had to get back to the truck as I was surely losing sight of my surroundings with every moment passed. I knew I hadn’t wandered far, yet I felt as though I were isolated from everyone and everything I’d ever known in the place I stood, the feeling hanging heavily around me, pulling me down until it was a chore just to breathe. 

The air whipped around my trembling frame, stinging my cheeks and chilling my bones as I continued my singing, trying to keep myself from a full blown panic attack. Singing had always soothed me. Even though my voice was weak from competing with the sound and force of the wind, it kept me from losing my mind despite the fear that filled my heart and seeped into every fiber of my being. 

The song continued on strong through what felt like chaos surrounding me, causing me to feel it on a level much deeper than before. A stark realization settled in that I was truly alone in the world, and it was being shown all around me in some kind of sick, wintery metaphor. I couldn’t carry on anymore. I felt my body go limp and my mind go blank, the lack of control in my life revealing itself to me. My voice fell silent as I stopped singing and fell forward into the freezing abyss that consumed me, a soft sob escaping my cherry red lips as I came to terms with my situation more than I ever thought I would. 

My heart screamed, pumping beat after beat with nothing but pain.

My blood boiled, burning my insides through the numbing cold. 

All I’d ever wanted was to be loved. 

Appreciated.

All I’d ever wanted my whole life was to be cared about.

_ Why wasn’t I deserving of that _ ?

And it was in that moment of silence that everything else in the world came to an unforeseen halt as well. 

A beat passed, maybe two, and I opened my eyes from being squeezed shut in anger and hurt. Mascara-filled tears left streaks down my cheeks as I kept my gaze down at the shining white ground, tiny black droplets melting the patches of snow beneath my face where each drop fell like blood. It was considerably darker than it had been before the storm, but the light was different, too. Almost scared to lift my head, my eyes trailed from their spot on the ground cautiously, my {H/C} hair falling in front of my face. 

The sudden silence was utterly deafening as I tried to listen for any sign of life. No sounds of nature; no song. But it was then that I noticed each and every delicate snowflake hanging in its place in the air like crystal droplets hanging from a chandelier. It was as though time and space had stopped around me. 

_ Am I dead _ ?

My eyes widened in astonishment, taking in my new environment as I scanned the small area I found myself in. 

_ Where am I? _

I exhaled, a small white cloud hanging off my lips. I’d been holding my breath without my knowing. All around me were tall walls of white and blue ice, casting glacial shadows across what looked like hallways within their confines. The snowflakes that hung around me began to disappear like fireflies into the night while I stumbled to my feet again. 

Ice. 

It was all ice surrounding me, and the song that haunted me everywhere I went had not returned. Shuddering gently, the cold touched me here, but it didn’t chill me the way it had in the woods. In fact, despite the snow, there was a sense of warmth that radiated from every corner. I didn’t feel as hopeless and alone as I had on the ground just minutes before, the grave shift in emotions so quickly almost throwing me into a mild form of shock as I found my bearings again.

The familiarity of the place hit me like a ton of bricks as I began to walk. It was like my feet knew exactly where to take me; running my fingers along the ice that stood tall enough to keep anything that might’ve come across the place out — or in. Parts of the enclosure arched over me with large icicles that made everything feel like a dreamscape; the cold of the crystalline walls on my sensitive fingertips began to hurt. But in the moment, there was no care to be had about the pain. 

The grin that tugged slowly at my snow kissed lips couldn’t be helped as I began to run, letting my heart carry me through what I quickly remembered to be a maze. Sure, I couldn’t remember how I knew, but somehow, I knew exactly where I was going. Something in my mind told me I was going to be the victor if I reached the entrance, keeping my focus on nothing but chasing my own intuition through the labyrinth’s twisting and turning glacial halls.

From my head to my toes I was awash with giddiness, a giggle escaping from my lips at every new turn, a childlike wonderment becoming me, replacing the sorrow that I was sure wouldn’t leave me alone only moments before. The snow kicked up around my feet, and I could see the light in the distance, indicating the entrance I was so after. Shifting into a sprint, it was as though I knew I had something to get to at the end, but couldn’t place exactly what. 

But when I finally reached my destination, I was met with a world of fragmented memories that came flooding into my mind all at once, the familiarity delving deeper than just a passing wonder. I could’ve sworn there was an impact on me physically as I caught myself, leaning back against the large wall that made up the entrance with strength I didn’t know I would need to keep myself up as I sorted through my thoughts. 

Sprawled out before my curious eyes was the most wondrous thing I’d ever seen. Christmas trees and houses that looked like life sized gingerbread cottages. Blinking lights were everywhere, complete with a large Ferris Wheel and a rollercoaster that wound its way around the entire parameter. There wasn’t a patch of ground that snow didn’t cover, and I could hear laughter in the distance. My heart suddenly ached with fervor, and I clutched at my chest as though that might stop the gnawing that radiated deeper than I would’ve liked. I was thrilled and pained all at the same time. But how could I feel as though I so deeply missed something I couldn’t even remember properly?

There was a certain romance to everything I set my eyes on as it shined in the lights, casting technicolor shadows over my face. I didn’t want to look away, in fact, I was sure I couldn’t as I let myself linger on the sights before me. I wanted to explore, to find myself in every nook and cranny this place of wonder offered.

Emotions began to overwhelm me as I finally came to the conclusion that I’d been here before long ago. It wasn’t something I’d simply made up or only dreamt about. The lights in my dream, they were leading to this. My brow furrowed as I tried to remember; tried to search the depths of my mind for any memory that would give me more than just a fuzzy clue.

My feet pounded against the ground as I ran again. 

I ran and ran and ran; through the carnival games and rides that offered more flashes of hazy memories and past the houses that did just the same. When I reached the edge of what looked like a Christmassy plaza, I saw two people standing across from each other, both in defensive stances as though they were in the middle of an intense row. As I peered in for a closer look, I gasped. 

_ What was Vic doing here _ ?

She was in a stand-off with a tall man in a navy blue jacket and a deep red cravat. His dark brown hair matched the darkness of his trousers and shoes, and I noticed all too quickly that he had a face no one should ever forget. 

When my eyes set on him, I was terribly wounded that I had forgotten his face at all when I immediately recognized him-- even if I couldn’t remember how, exactly.

_ Charlie Manx _ . 

_ Father Christmas _ . 

Whatever anyone called him, that was who my entire being was being pulled towards through the maze and down the snowy pathways. I knew it when my gaze found him, the ache in my chest dulling, but not completely gone. 

_ But why? Who is he to me? _ There were more questions than I had words. 

No one noticed my appearance as I made my way towards them with reckless abandon, interrupting whatever was happening before me. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened my mouth to speak, but when they both turned to look at me, I couldn’t say a word. 

Their facial expressions were that of shock. But Charlie looked at me with a hint of surprise and wonderment that made every nerve ending in my body sizzle with fear and tension. 

Everyone fell silent, words escaping us at the strange situation we found ourselves in until Charlie finally stood a bit taller, speaking loudly into the open air. 

“Well… If it isn’t little {Y/N}.. Not so little anymore, are we?”

_ Wait _ ... 

“You know each other?” Vic questioned, anger and adrenaline thick in her vocal chords, her face turning to stone as though I’d committed treason in the highest degree. 

_ I recognized him, but how did he know me _ ? I wanted to ask what was going on, to explain myself to Vic - or what I could figure out of myself - and ask why I was back here again, or what I had done here in the first place. I wanted to scream at my splintered memories that only let me remember where I was and that I’d been here before, but not much of what happened or for how long. They were all a hazy blur of lights and games, children and sweets. 

Everyday was Christmas Day. 

Every night was Christmas Eve. 

But I couldn’t— I physically couldn’t make a sound. 

My hand clutched my neck as I realized my voice was completely missing from my throat like some Brothers' Grimm tale in a Disney-esque wonderland. 

Charlie made a noise, as though delighting in the fact that I couldn’t speak.

“I see your voice has brought you here once again,” he continued, his velvet voice dripping with honey tones. “Rightfully so.. As you find yourself,  _ technically _ orphaned, don’t you, {Y/N}?”

My focus was on Charlie Manx, and his focus was on nothing but me as my line of sight drifted towards the deep night sky, peppered with stars and a moon that seemed to welcome me warmly. My gaze met his again, and for a moment, it was as though no one else and nothing else existed but the two of us. His chocolate eyes pierced through me with an intensity that made me feel as though he could pull my soul from my body and do what he wanted with what remained. The spectral sensation forced me to avert my eyes towards the sparkling lights that hung from every object one could perceive instead. 

Children began to poke their heads out from behind snow covered trees and bushes then, holding large things like scissors and knives in their hands with menacing, but apprehensive expressions that rested on their features. It looked all too familiar to me. 

“Do you remember me? All of your brothers and sisters here at Christmasland?” he asked, a gloved hand reaching out to gesture towards the hiding children. 

But all that rang through my mind was:

_ Christmasland _ .

A flash of large candy cane and iron gates topped with a sign that read “Christmasland” stood out in my mind, but I shook my head a bit, an attempt at shaking the thought and bringing myself back to his brief line of questioning. To nod would have been a lie, so I gave it my best shrug, lifting my shoulders and teetering my faintly trembling hand from side to side. 

“Pity” was all he said with a solemn expression, his deep register soothing and unnerving all at once.

He then turned to face Vic, who was now missing from her place on the other end of the odd triangle positioning we’d all been a part of. 

His countenance turned to a scowl, clearly vexed by the fact that she’d disappeared, and then frustrated by his own careless mistake of letting it happen. I watched as his hands balled into tightly knit fists, frightening me on the inside as I tried to keep myself together. I couldn’t remember much, but from what I saw, there was a darkness about the entire situation. Between Charlie Manx and Christmasland, to the children with weapons and the ominous atmosphere that seemed to linger in the air, I wasn’t sure what would become of me if I made a sudden movement to run.

Charlie immediately ordered the children to begin a game through gritted teeth, one that I couldn’t recall, but felt as though I should. They all scattered at the shouted command, leaving us both truly alone in the wintery plaza. All that could be heard were the sounds of faint sinister giggles and crunchy footsteps as they drifted further into the distance until I began to hear my heart beat in my own ears thanks to adrenaline laced with dread.

It seemed as though he pushed away his anger for my sake, causing me to wonder why I was suddenly so important. His entire demeanor changed as soon as his smoldering eyes set on mine again, and he approached me slowly, every footfall cautious, as though he felt like if he came too close too quickly, I’d disappear. 

Staying in place before him, the closer he drew to me, the more I felt as though I just might. 

“Never mind her,” he assured me as he caught me glancing around for Vic in a slight panic.

_ What were they going to do to her _ ?

He seemed to relax, as if this was going to make me feel any better. His features softened, like when one recalled fond memories before he lifted a leather clad finger into the air for just a second. 

“You were such a fantastic addition to the family, {Y/N} Manx.” 

The name caught me off guard. He must’ve been able to tell. 

“Oh..” he drawled. “Now, you should remember that. You signed it in my book yourself.”

And then he smiled. 

Oh god— did he smile. 

There was nothing like it. When he smiled, it was as though the whole world around me lit up with the same delight. The act was infectious, and I felt myself smiling right back at him in a vague stupor. That was, until I wiped it off my face the moment I caught my lips curving, which proved to be more complicated than I would’ve liked. 

_ What was wrong with me _ ?

I had to remember that Vic was here too somehow, clearly in the middle of a scuffle with this man. No matter what kind of spell it seemed like he could put anyone under with his undeniable charm, there had to be a reason for Vic’s visit. Moreover, he’d sent children who carried objects that could be used as weapons after her. 

Being disarmed so easily wasn’t like me at all, especially in such a strange place with such a strange person that I really barely knew. I had to get out. There was more at work than I could’ve even begun to wrap my head around. 

Everything was so new to me— there were no answers, only more things to question, including how either Vic or myself got to Christmasland. But I couldn’t conceal the fact that I was worried for her and if only a little, myself. I was unsure if he would take the same approach with me should I fight him or try to run, and I felt far too weak from what I was sure could only be the past several minutes that felt like a whirlwind. Up to this point, I’d barely had reason to fear him myself anyway, and all I wanted to do was find out why I remembered the man, but nothing about him or how we were connected. 

I tried to speak again but couldn’t. His expression turned quizzical before the damned smile eased its way back onto his lips. Albeit briefly, I had to look away if I didn’t want to be caught up in it again. 

“I didn’t realize you hadn’t used your gift since we last found you here..” he voiced in realization. “It comes at a cost, my dear. Once you use your voice, you lose it for a while. But that’s nothing a hot cup of peppermint tea with lobs of sugar can’t fix, can it?”

His smile this time was small, but still enough to disarm me all over again.

Peppermint tea -overly sweetened- was my favorite. My brow furrowed as I tried to pull the memories from my brain. How long had I been here before? He’d sure made it sound like a while between dubbing me an addition to whatever “family” this was with his last name and knowing the way I liked my tea. 

There were still a multitude of questions bouncing around in my mind. But without a voice, I had no other option than to go along with what he was saying. It wasn’t only that I couldn’t remember how to leave, but I was also deeply intrigued by everything I saw— from Christmasland to Father Christmas himself. It surely couldn’t hurt to spend a little time, and while I did, maybe I’d get my voice back enough to finally figure out what was going on. If my voice brought me here, surely it’d be able to take me out. I just had to discover how.

And besides, maybe he was onto something with the tea. It had been a while since I’d indulged in a simple pleasure like that for myself. The feeling of being out of touch with reality drifted through my body and in my thoughts again. It was like I was slipping into a kind of contentment I’d never felt before. Not wanting to give into that, I fought the feeling off. I didn’t deserve it, I thought. 

Slightly defeated by not being able to counter his offer, I nodded meekly, stepping closer to him. He hastily stepped backwards, keeping the same distance as his intense stare held mine for - to anyone else - what might’ve been a little too long. Deep down, I wondered if I should’ve figured out how to get away to find Vic instead.

“Come,” was all he said then, turning around and leading me to a house just behind him, the outside decorated just as to the nines as the rest of the area and the small cottages that resided within it.

A warm yellow light flowed out across the snow as he opened the door, enticing me even more to follow before he disappeared inside. The door swung closed behind him, and as I approached it myself, my inner dialogue was still fixated on just how I knew Christmasland, and why Victoria was here being what seemed like taunted by Charlie. It wasn’t until my fingertips grazed the icy doorknob that I was being pulled backwards, a hand -I assumed instinctively- being cupped over my mouth to keep my already silenced voice even quieter. Trying to fight back proved to be useless as I tried to dig in my heels into the snow to no avail. I was being dragged backwards against my will as I tried to wriggle free, quickly giving up the fight once I heard my captor speak. 

“Don’t say a word, I’m gonna get you out of here,” Vic whispered in my ear gruffly. 


	5. This Isn't Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little longer, mid-chapter my wrists started acting up. Carpal tunnel is a monster.   
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! <3

My voice had returned and my mind was racing even more than I expected it could’ve when Vic stopped talking. She picked up a pen from the table we sat at in the kitchen and fidgeted with it, clicking the top a few times as she looked me in the eye. It was clear she was waiting for any kind of response to the boatload of information she’d dumped on me. 

“So I’m a… _strong creative_ ,” I made air quotes around the words that sounded more like a question than a statement. 

She looked at me and nodded. “You don’t need to lose your voice every time you use it, though. I have a friend who’s just like us. Her name’s Maggie.. She figured out how to keep herself from dealing with the cost of using her gift.”

“What’s her gift?” I interrupted, curious. 

“Her tiles,” she rasped. “She has a purple bag with scrabble tiles in them. They’ll tell you anything you want or need to know as long as you ask them. But, we have gotten the tiles mixed up before.” 

All of this sounded like some magical bologna that I could’ve found in a novel somewhere, and had I not used my gift myself and seen the outcome with my own eyes, I would’ve laughed and told her she was losing her mind. 

“Anyway, Maggie told me you either have to hurt yourself… or someone else.” 

It sounded as though she was reluctant to tell me the latter of the two options. 

“What’s the cost of your gift?” I asked again. 

She hesitated, setting the pen down and looking me in the eye. “My eye,” was all she said, and I put it together. 

I had seen her come back countless times that week with a bloodied eye, but the last time it seemed to have gotten worse. When we left Christmasland, it was bleeding. It all clicked then. 

“But Maggie burns herself with a cigarette every time she uses her tiles,” she continued. “I’m sure you can find something to keep you from losing your voice. You have to focus on the pain in order to make it work. But don’t hurt people, {Y/N}.” 

I nodded, taking mental notes of her advice. I’d never been told to hurt myself for any reason before but I guessed there were a lot of things that were new to me when it came to this seemingly supernatural situation. My lungs filled with air as I absentmindedly sighed. It felt as though I was thrust into a film and forced to figure out the plot. I was more thankful for Vic than I could’ve ever expressed.

The clock on the wall felt as though it ticked slower than usual as I realized how late it was. Time had gotten away from all of us once we’d started looking for Wayne together. After Vic extracted me from Christmasland on her dirt bike through the tunnel I saw in the forest, she instructed me not to say a word to anyone about what had happened. Wanting to gain her trust enough to figure out what all of this meant, I complied. Once we arrived back at their place and Lou went to bed, she stayed up to elucidate what was going on. But before she got into my gift, she explained that hers was not what I thought was a tunnel, but the bridge. 

She called it an inscape. Her “shorter way.” 

But after all of our efforts, it came to be that Wayne hadn’t actually been missing. He’d simply run off to play and threw Vic and Lou -and me- into a spiral of worry. Or at least, that was his story and he was sticking to it. 

“Your knife is your voice,” she began again. “And your inscape…” Her brow furrowed as she looked around, picking up the pen again. “Well, I’m not sure. What were you doing when you found Christmasland?” 

“Singing,” I said immediately. “I was looking for Wayne and singing.”

She clicked the pen on the table a few times, looking as though she were completely uneasy. 

“Maybe you have a shorter way, too,” she swallowed hard, as though that wasn’t the first thing to come to mind. 

“But Wayne was never at Christmasland,” I added. 

“No.. No he wasn’t. But that bastard Charlie Manx is trying to change that.”

Ah. Charlie Manx. 

The man of the evening that I wanted desperately to know so much more about. Vic had abruptly taken me from Christmasland without so much as an explanation, and at least now I knew why she was there. Still, curiosity had gotten the better of me to say the least. He was all I could think about during our search for Wayne and I was slightly bitter that I didn’t get to figure out what I was doing at the winter wonderland in the past through questioning him. He seemed to know far more about me than I knew about myself. 

“What about him, anyway?” I questioned, trying not to sound as though I were too excited to get into the subject. “Who is he? What is Christmasland? _Where_ is Christmasland?”

She leaned back in the chair, slipping out of her motorcycle jacket and hanging it on the backrest as her eyes seemed to grow dark. 

“Christmasland is Charlie Manx’s inscape. It’s just a big, intricate figment of his sick imagination. His knife is a classic Rolls Royce Wraith, and he picks up innocent kids and he kidnaps them with it, and then brings them to Christmasland.”

Her voice became rushed and shaky. 

“Once they’re there.. Well, I don’t know if they ever get out. They turn into something else.. Something inhuman. They attack people and they think _he’s_ their father.”

She spit the words out like venom on the tongue. I wasn’t sure why, but I almost felt offended that she was speaking of him that way. My thoughts drifted back to when he called me by his last name. 

“He thinks he’s doing them a service, these kids, by taking them from what he calls “neglectful parents” and giving them the home they never had,” her expression twisted into a cringe. “It’s somethin’ out of a horror movie. Probably why the plate on the Wraith says Nosferatu…” she finished, the statement sounding like a solemn attempt at a joke. 

I had a voice now but I still sat in silence, mulling over everything she’d said. It was easy to remain quiet, especially when I had no idea how to handle what was going on when none of it seemed real. It was a lot to grasp, but the more information I had, the better. I must’ve looked as though I were deep in thoughts I shouldn’t have been having, because she reached over and grabbed my wrist then, her slender fingers squeezing it tightly. 

“You can’t go back to Christmasland, {Y/N}. No matter what you do or what you think you need. It’s not safe. He’ll kill you. He’s tried to kill me, and Maggie, and..” she trailed off, clearly remembering something else. “Just don’t go, okay? Promise me.” 

Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt a pang of hurt again. That kind of sensation where your heart breaks and you know the tears are next. Holding it in, I looked her in the eye, and against what I knew I wanted, I nodded. 

“I promise.”

-x-x-x- 

This was all more information than I could process in a day. My eyes were heavy as I layed on the couch and pulled the fuzzy blanket they’d given me over my shoulders. The house creaked and groaned occasionally as it settled for the night and it was warm and cozy inside despite the chill outside. 

My day had been long and confusing, from the funeral, to visiting my house to grab my things, to finding myself at Christmasland. While I knew I promised Vic I’d never go back, I couldn’t shake the thought of it. The way the snow glistened under the lights; the way the maze of ice seemed to go for miles; the way the houses looked like gingerbread creations and— the way he smiled. His dark, deep set eyes narrowing at the corners just a bit as his lips pulled upwards with them. As though he had a million secrets and he was about to let you in on every single one of them. 

I rolled over on the couch, and tried to think of something else as I dozed off, but I couldn’t help that my thoughts were too adamant for my own good. I didn’t understand how I could’ve been so captivated by him, especially after Vic’s rendition of Charlie as she knew him. Something deep inside told me I knew another version, and I just had to figure out which. But I’d made a promise to her, and learning about him personally was no longer an option. No matter how hard I tried to think of anything else, the last fragments of imagination that materialized behind my eyelids were of him. 

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the road to what I thought before was nowhere. The snow topped trees lined either side, but the moon in the sky was brighter than usual— in fact, so were the stars and everything else that surrounded me. The entire Milky Way could be seen above me, and everything I set eyes on was awe inspiring. Studying myself, I noticed I wore a deep crimson rockabilly halter dress with a big black bow tied in the back. I felt like a present wrapped under a tree, and while dresses weren’t my norm, I felt just as pretty as the atmosphere around me. 

Oh, it was my usual dream, but it seemed every time I dreamt it, the more it changed. This time, it was gorgeous. 

Snowflakes fell like glitter as I made my way forward, admiring the beauty of the surreal world that surrounded me. It was as though everything was suddenly clearer; as though my place in this icy dreamscape was solidified. My ears caught vague hints of the song that brought me to Christmasland, and I quickly realized that I was facing the wrong way. The twinkling lights weren’t ahead of me anymore, but a spectrum of colorful lights caught my attention as they reflected against the snow from behind me. With a deep breath I tried to conceal my smile. If I couldn’t visit it in real life anymore, my dreams did me the honor. 

Upon turning around, I was met with the sight of Christmasland’s gates just up ahead. I’d finally reached my destination, and I knew exactly what my dream was all about. The entire time my subconscious was trying to remind me of a memory; a memory I’d soon revisit. 

Seemed a little dramatic to me to have the dream so often, especially after how short my time there was, but at least I _knew. I knew_ that there was more to me than just being the girl with a rough past and an unstable future. 

When I took a step forward, I heard his voice. 

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” He said somewhat wistfully. 

Charlie had appeared next to me at some point and I hadn’t even noticed in my mystified state. Still, just as he had in person, he stood a small distance away from me. I hoped my voice worked this time as I opened my mouth to speak. 

“It’s beautiful,” I smiled. 

Thank goodness I still had my voice. However, I had to remind myself this was only a dream. Even if it was lucid, it mattered not what I said or how I said it. But it was still the only chance I’d get to immerse myself in whatever fantasy this was anymore. It was the only place I could let my desires run freely without the repercussions of losing my only friend, and really, my only hope as survival. I rolled with my audience of Charlie Manx. Maybe my subconscious could answer a few of my burning questions about the situation, but he spoke before I could again. 

“I must say, I was surprised to see you so quickly after your mother’s passing. My condolences..” He ended his sentence with a hint of joy, as though he were glad the death of my mother brought me to Christmasland, accident or not. 

“It wasn’t my intention, but I guess it was meant to happen.” 

I held my hands in front of me, letting our eyes meet. The electricity I felt buzzed through the air. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I didn’t want to lose myself so soon in the illusion. Fidgeting with the ends of my hair, I stood taller and began my small line of questioning.

“What is this place? Why do you know me?” 

There was a glint in his eye as I spoke to him, as though he were absorbing my voice, some kind of odd pride becoming him. With a wave of his hand to gesture me to follow, he began a stroll towards the gates. I did as he suggested, wanting to hear what he was going to say. 

“What do _you_ remember?” He countered instead.

Damn it. 

I tried my best to pull any memory I could from the darkest parts of my mind, sighing with a faint shrug. 

“Not much.. I remember riding the carousel.. And playing the carnival games. Running between the flashing lights and laughing with other children,” I tried to rattle off, hoping a new memory would suddenly appear. “I remember how to get out of the maze, but I can’t remember ever being there..”

I peeked over at him. 

“You did love the carousel,” was all he said, like he was waiting for me to make a breakthrough on my own. Until he spoke again. 

“You were a model child at Christmasland, my dear. You played well with the others, made sure no one was left out. In fact, you enjoyed Millie’s company very much.” 

_Millie…_

The name rang a bell, but before I had time to ask, he continued. 

“You came to us one day quite on your own, which hadn’t happened before, and hasn’t happened again. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that that voice of yours brings you to Christmasland. Of course, you didn’t know that the night your father laid hands on your mother. But you left your cruel home to soothe yourself with song. The next thing we all knew, there you were. Tearful, and quite pitiful-looking outside of the Candy Cane Gates.” 

“I came here on my own..” I reworded out loud, attempting to piece together any thoughts from that night. 

It happened in my house more often than not, more often than anyone should’ve endured or any child should’ve seen. I remembered the night I left, the only night I left. For the life of me, I could not remember singing my way to Christmasland. At the same time, it was nice to hear that my scrambled memories weren’t just things I’d made up or imagined. They were real. I was there. Then again, no matter how vivid the entire dream was, I had to remind myself it was just that. A dream. This was all coming from my own mind.

“From then on we took you in,” he finished. “I knew there was something special about you.. That you were a strong creative, just as myself. That, and you wouldn’t have dreamed of putting yourself in a predicament that would place you on the naughty list.”

He offered a charming smirk at his quirky bit of information about me and I looked away, fighting the pull towards him I felt when he did. I assumed that my need to be good was out of fear after what Vic told me about him. But what he said next surprised me. 

“You must bring Bruce Wayne McQueen to me, {Y/N}.”

My brows pinched together almost immediately. _Victoria was right.. Or was this just my subconscious making Victoria right?_

“Why?” was all I said. 

“Because he wants to be here, with me, my dear. He’s told me so himself. I was well on my way to helping him, and then you made an appearance at Christmasland.. I’m man enough to admit that your surprise arrival distracted me enough to let the boy slip away. You must help me get him back now. Do not listen to Victoria. She doesn’t understand how _unhappy_ her son is. He _longs_ to join me and the other children. To finally be safe from her derelict ways of alcoholism and neglect.”

For being my dream, the request was odd. 

“I— I would never bring Wayne here.. Vic told me all about you. All about how you think you’re doing right by these children but you’re not. I would never betray her like that. She’s given me a home when she didn’t...“ I cut myself off and regrouped, not wanting to get personal, whether it was real or not. 

Despite my rattling off, he didn’t make a sound. He simply let me, as though he knew something I didn’t. As though it didn’t matter what I said, because he would find his way anyway. 

“This isn’t even real.” I continued, stopping in my tracks, not moving any further towards the gates. “You’re not here. I don’t know why my thoughts are panning out this way, but I’m not bringing Wayne to Christmasland. I don’t know why I chose to stay here when I was a kid but I have a feeling I didn’t have a choice.” 

He stopped several ahead and turned to face me. Shaking my head, I ran my hand back through my hair and dared to let my eyes rest on his again. There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes, like I’d disappointed him— but only for a second. I immediately began to speak again.

“This isn’t real,” I repeated, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore. 

“Not real?” The expression on his handsome features changed into something near mischievousness as he arched a single thick brow and approached me. It was the closest he’d gotten to me since we’d met again. 

My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered what was going to happen. Each step he took was slow and calculated. It felt as though he didn’t want to get so close, but had a point to prove in doing so. My dress began to feel tight around my chest as I tried to steady my breathing. 

_Can you die from a dream?_

He towered over me once we were opposite each other, and I allowed myself to look up, holding his gaze. Swallowing hard, I inhaled deeply and waited for whatever fate was to become me, mustering the strength to endure whatever was going to happen should I not wake up. It crossed my mind to pinch myself; to wake up before anything traumatic happened. But something within me wanted to stay. It was a strange sensation to stare what might’ve been my brightest dream or darkest nightmare in the face and not know which way the chips were going to fall.

Confusion was all I could sift through when his large hand reached for my neck, placing his thumb and index finger on either side of it as his palm rested lightly against my clavicle. I watched his features, noticing his jaw clench just enough for me to wonder if I had imagined it. 

My {E/C} eyes were full of fear that I knew he had to see, but I stood still, waiting for his grip to tighten or his careful movements to turn into some kind of gruesome act. But as the seconds passed, I instead felt how cold his hand was despite not feeling the chill in the air around us; how gentle his touch was against my warm flesh. He treated me as though I were a porcelain doll, set to break at any moment if he made the wrong move. The faintest of smiles placed itself on his lips then, and my heart kicked up for a different reason that I hoped he couldn’t detect in my pulse. 

“Wake up,” he instructed, showing off the velvet in his voice. 

I gasped awake. Blinking my eyes rapidly through the blackness that was the dark room to gain any kind of clarity about my surroundings. I haphazardly reached over to the coffee table in front of the couch, tapping my phone’s screen for the time before looking around the room through the small amount of light. It was the middle of the night and I was still at Vic’s. Of course the dream wasn’t real. A quiet laugh passed through my nose as I shook my head and settled back into the couch, listening to the quietness around me. Almost hoping deep down that I would hear his voice again. But it all was silent. 

_What a strange dream it had been this time_. 

Charlie Manx had certainly made an impression on me, and I wasn’t sure yet in what kind of way. I didn’t want to think I was infatuated by his charm and devilish good looks, but it seemed more and more that I couldn’t deny the feeling. At least the only place I’d ever see him anymore was in my dreams. I couldn’t break my promise to Vic. 

As I laid back down and stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, I let my hand linger up to my neck where his hand had been in my dream. 

I bolted upright again when I felt a necklace that wasn’t there before. 

My fingers swiftly felt around for a pendant or any sort of indication of what the piece of jewelry contained, and when I found it, I lost my breath altogether. Remaining deathly still, I held it. 

It was the locket I’d hidden in my little cedar chest for years.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm doing our beloved Charlie some justice here!! And again, thank you so much for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'll try to post at least once a week. <3
> 
> My new Tumblr is cherry-moonlight.tumblr.com should you want to be friends or request anything!


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